


A Whiter Shade of Pale

by ZemtheMattress



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Deviates From Canon, Gen, Spirit World (Avatar), death is an illusion and so are pants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27905482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZemtheMattress/pseuds/ZemtheMattress
Summary: Zuko has finally succeeded. Ba Sing Se has fallen. He has been allowed to come home. He has killed the Avatar. And he cannot live with the guilt.Zuko goes in search of the Avatar's companions, knowing he can never be forgiven but hoping he can make amends.OrRedemption can be found at the end of many roads
Comments: 14
Kudos: 32





	1. Busted and Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Uh hello. This is my first ever attempt at a fic. I was taken in by the Atla renaissance and have read so many wonderful stories by you all. So I thought I'd give it a go. 
> 
> I wondered what would Zuko have done if Aang had actually died during the Crossroads of Destiny and here's what my mind came up with. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and enjoy

“How can she look at me?” Zuko thought, fighting the bile that rose violently in his throat.

Mai was curled up on the low red couch on the other side of the room, fast asleep. She had hardly left his side since he and Azula had returned from Ba Sing Se a week before. The conquering heroes.This should have been the happiest moment of his life, his father had welcomed him back, the war was almost won, his honor was restored and the Avatar was dead. The Avatar was dead.

The bile rose again and this time there was no fighting it. Zuko rushed to the bathroom, retching, a hand covering his mouth. If he had eaten anything in the past week he might have coated the porcelain but all that he could bring up was pale, acidic and watery. Heaving in a breath he pushed himself off the floor where he had collapsed and moved to the sink, trying to wash the taste from his mouth.  
But there was no washing away this feeling. He would be haunted by it till the end of his days. How could anyone say he had honor? What honor was there in killing a child?

He swirled water around his mouth, spat it out into the sink then looked up. Another Zuko looked back at him from the mirror. It was not a Zuko he knew. This Zuko was pale, paler than the old one had ever been. There were thick black lines beneath his eyes, as if someone had smeared coal dust there. And both eyes were unblemished. There was no scar, no awful reminder of what his father had done to him. This Zuko was whole.

Zuko sent a fist flying at the other Zuko, the one Katara had healed in the Crystal Catacombs beneath Ba sing Se. Blood trickled down to his wrist, dripping into the sink, angry red splotches standing out against the white. For a moment he thought he saw that other Zuko smirk at him through the shattered surface of the mirror. He let out a wretched sob, his chest rising pitifully, his long black hair falling over his face.  
Why had she done it? Why had she wasted it on him? She could have saved him.  


“She could have saved him!” he roared, punching the mirror again, sending pieces of glass scattering across the room like scales loosed from a fish at the market that will never swim free again.

But instead she had healed Zuko. And how had he repaid her?  
Zuko staggered back from the sink, collided with the wall and slid down to the floor. He lay there sobbing until exhaustion overcame him. It was the only way he ever got to sleep these days.

“Hey Zuzu, why so glum?” Azula greeted him over breakfast.

She was still the same. If anything she was brighter, almost as if she was happy to have him around. Zuko could not understand that. She showed no signs of guilt weighing on her conscience. But then she was not really the one to blame, he knew.  
He had betrayed Katara, he had sided with a family that had offered him nothing but hatred when all he had wanted was their love. Only now did he realise that love would never come. Now that he had bound himself back to their sides.  
Azula might have struck the blow but Zuko had been the one that had killed the Avatar. He was not going to kid himself on that. Zuko stared morosely into his bowl, the food within untouched, then pushed himself away from the table without a word. He could not face her taunting any more than he could face Mai’s smile.

Aang. The name echoed in Zuko’s head, cried out in Katara’s desperate, heart-breaking scream. Zuko shook his head, walking on past the tapestries of the Fire Lords, but it did not make her voice go away.  
Aang. Zuko, throughout his three year long search, had always called him the Avatar. He realised now why he had done it. The title dehumanised him, it separated him. Zuko was not searching for a person, a human being, he was hunting for the Avatar, the all-powerful Avatar, the only thing standing in the way of the end of the war.  
A war they had started.  
Aang. His name was Aang. He was a person. He was a human being. He was just a kid.   


“And you killed him,” the new voice said, the voice that followed him around the palace. 

Mai had been planning to go for a picnic. He sent a message saying he was unwell and hid from her. He could not bear her happiness any more than he could stomach the thought of food. Not when it was aimed at him.  
Though she hid it well he knew it was there, in the way she hummed, in the way she leant her head against his shoulder, the way the corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly, her version of a beaming smile. She was so happy to have him back. How could she feel that way for someone like him? Zuko the Crown Prince. Zuko the killer. Zuko the monster.

It was not just Katara’s voice that haunted him. He could not rid his mind of the image of her clutching the Avatar’s tiny, crumpled body, tears in her eyes. She had looked at Zuko, just for a split second, before his Uncle had jumped between them, but that second had lasted an eternity. It was not hatred, or rage, it was pure grief and anguish. How could you do this, that look had said to Zuko, how could you do it?

“What would your mother say?”

The voice taunted him from the dark each night.

“Who knows, maybe she would have been proud. She was killer too after all.”

He would roll over, pulling his pillow over his head, part of him hoping it would smother him if he ever managed to get to sleep. It was in his head he knew, but it did not make it wrong. The voice saw deep into his twisted, broken soul and saw the truth.  
  


Falling, falling, forever falling. The Avatar’s body falling from where the lightning had struck him. Falling into Katara’s arms. It was only when Zuko had seen him there that he realised just how small the Avatar had really been, small and fragile. And dead. 

The Avatar… Aang, was supposed to bring balance to the world. Instead Zuko had robbed the world of him. There was nothing to stop Ozai now. No one knew better than Zuko what that meant, what the world would face under his tyrannical rule. They said a good ruler was like a father to his country. Well Zuko had seen first-hand what Ozai was like as a father. If he could burn a thirteen year old boy, what would he do to his nation, to all the nations of the world?

His father would burn the Earth Kingdom to the ground, drown the Northern Water tribe, wipe the last traces of the Southern water tribe away, finish the job Sozin had started and rid the world of everyone who was not Fire Nation. Zuko knew there would be no other outcome. There was no one to stop him now. 

Fire Lord Ozai had told them his plans in the last war meeting, his son given the place of honor by his side. The old Zuko would have given anything for that seat, to have his father’s faith in him restored. Would he have if he had known what it would cost? If he knew who his father really was? What the Fire Nation really was? Zuko thought he would.  
He had been a spoiled prince who had no idea of the real world beyond the walls of his palace, a world that bled and cried and burned at the whims of his father and his nation.  
Zuko could not bring himself to attend the next war meeting. 

The crypts beneath the palace were a refuge from the hustle of the court but it gave no respite from his guilt. Zuko did not want it to go though. He wanted it to burn forever in his heart, a brand to remind him what he had done. The awful act that had condemned him.  
He had seen one of the fire sages come down here a few days before as he wandered, trying to get away from Mai and Azula and the awful nagging voice that lurked in the dark of his room. He had made a mental note to see where the spiral stone staircase the old man had disappeared down led.  
Lantern held aloft he had discovered a trove of treasures that would have sent the old Zuko into a state of wonder, the whole history of the Fire Nation at his fingertips. Now he could barely muster even vague interest. But he studied the scrolls anyway. It was something to keep the voice at bay.

He passed his time down there reading about Sozin’s war with the Airbenders. Except it could not even charitably be called a war. It had been a massacre. Even with the bias of the texts Zuko could see what had truly happened. The Avatar had shown him what the air nomads were really like. His great grandfather had butchered a peaceful people for no other reason than a lust for power and glory. Maybe he had told himself he was looking for the Avatar but the more Zuko read the more he saw how Sozin had revelled in his slaughter. And now Zuko had finished the task. The last Airbender dead at his hand. 

A breeze snuck in from some unseen crack in the foundations, swirling long trapped dust around him. The lamp light, taken from a candle upstairs – Zuko could not bring himself to use a flame of his own creation – played across the ancient parchment, flicking shadows over Sozin’s lies. Zuko read about how his great grandfather had betrayed the Avatar, how Roku had asked for his help, just as the Avatar… just as Aang had that time he had broken him out of Zhao’s prison. Perhaps he had been destined to destroy him. It was in his blood.  
“No you can’t get away with it that easily Zuko, you did this. This is on you, you and no one else.”  
Zuko did not answer the voice. He knew it was right. He had killed the Avatar. The Fire Nation had started this war, had burned the world. And now he had ended it. The war was over. And only more fire would follow.

Genocide. The word, newly discovered but powerful and palpable in his mind, would not leave him. Similarly the voice was still with him, lurking up in the shadows above his huge bed. After three years on the bunk on his ship followed by whatever straw mattress or patch of floor he and his uncle could find on the road, it seemed the height of luxury. In fact it revolted him. Little Lee would never sleep in a bed like this, Jet had never, none of the refugees from the war – his war – would ever live a life like this. Genocide. That was what had happened to the Airbenders. That was what his nation, his family, had done to them. They had wiped them from the face of the earth. There had been only one left when the Fire Nations’ ruinous hands had lifted from the rubble and Zuko had seen fit that his escape had only lasted a century. What was a century to a people’s entire history, to a culture as ancient as the Avatar’s? Aang the last Airbender. He would be nothing but a line in a Fire Nation history book now, a line that would lie and say he deserved to die. The sob that escaped Zuko’s lips was choked and wet, his hands scrunched the edges of the scroll he was holding. No one deserved to die. Not like that.

When sleep found him so did the nightmares. He was back in the Crystal Catacombs. Katara’s voice cried out. There was the zap and boom so loud it rattled his teeth. Then his father’s laughter echoing, echoing endlessly in his head. The last thing he saw before he forced himself, gasping, awake would always be the same thing. Uncle’s face, so full of shame and disappointment that Zuko knew it would have broken his heart had it not already been shattered into a thousand pieces.

The voice was laughing at him when he pushed himself up onto his hands, sweat dripping from every inch of him. He had barely slept an hour. Zuko was about to yell at it to leave him alone, to throw something at the high ceiling where he knew it did not actually lurk, but he let the words die on his lips. He did not want it to leave. Did not deserve it. He would take his haunting without comment or complaint.

─

Zuko pulled his cloak tighter around him, lifting his hood over his head. There was no scar to betray him now but he still did not want to be seen. What would people think if they saw the prince visiting the traitor? Visiting the man who had loved him, who had raised him, had treated him like a son, had been a better father to him than his own had ever been. The man he had betrayed.  
If Zuko had had any sense of humour, any joy at all left within him he would have laughed. Those things seemed so obvious now, how had he not seen them before? How had he not seen the real people his father and uncle were? He had been oblivious to his father’s pathological hate, a hate that would never have allowed him to return to his side, not truly, a hate that could not restore his honour for there was not a shred of honour within that man’s black heart. And Uncle, Zuko had been oblivious to his love, to the patience he had shown him, to the kindness he had always granted him. Worse he had thrown it back in his face, had resented every stop for a stupid game of Pai Sho or cup of jasmine tea when in fact those moments were the only times in his life he had enjoyed, the only moments he had laughed, the only times he had really been happy. His Uncle had given him everything. And he had betrayed him.

The prison loomed over him, a huge upturned barrel bathed in the shadow of the mountain behind it. Zuko gulped as he looked up at it but that had nothing to do with the foreboding nature of the building. It was what waited for him inside that filled him with dread. It was a terror like nothing he had ever felt in his life, almost like the moment he had realised that it would be his father he would face in that fateful Agni Kai. This fear was different and that scared him all the more, it made him want to run and run and never look back, never have to see that face, that face he loved so much, so full of shame and disappointment. But he would not let himself turn back. You may be a monster Zuko, but you are not a coward.  
“Really?” the voice slithered into his ear, following him from his room. Following him everywhere he went. “Is it not the work of a coward to stab a man in the back? To betray a girl who had just showed you such kindness? To kill a child? If that isn’t the work of a coward Zuko then what is?”  
Zuko sniffed, trying with all his might not to cry. If he cried now he would never stop. And he could not let Uncle see him like that. He spat onto the ground and walked towards the gate. There’s that pride he always talked about, he told himself with disgust, the source of all your shame. What would it matter if he sees you cry? He has seen you do far worse. 

The cell was cold, the grey stones, the iron bars, the wind that howled through the cracks in the walls. His uncle seemed unaffected. He sat like a rock, unbent and unbowed. He knew he had done the right thing. And it had cost him everything.  
He had his back turned to Zuko. Even when he spoke the old man would not look around.

“Uncle? Uncle please.”

Zuko heard the pitiful, pleading note in his voice but he did not care. He had to talk to him, he had to get one last piece of advice.

“All those years on the road, you gave me so much good advice, please I need your help General.” His Uncle’s back slumped but still he would not look round. “I know I never listened,” Zuko tried to laugh but the sound came out as a snivel. “You taught me so much but you never taught me how to live with this guilt.”

He had moved forwards and was clutching the bars like a man who had never known freedom, who was so broken he thought he might be able to snap the metal with sheer will alone, though he knew he was destined to die behind them.

“You were a soldier but you never taught me how to live with killing someone.”

  
The silence in the cell was definite. Unbreakable. The wind had moved off to another part of the prison where it would be more welcome. His Uncle did not move. Minutes ticked by in silence.   


“I prayed I’d never have to,” Iroh finally whispered.  


But Zuko was already gone.

─

Zuko put a name to the voice the night he left. He had packed a bag, only the essentials, simple black clothes, a water skin, his swords, and the mask. It was a new one, but it looked exactly the same as the one that had been swallowed by the depths of Lake Laogai. The Blue Spirit.  


“Come on,” he murmured to it, holding it aloft in the dim light of his room. Dawn was still a long way off. No one would see him leave. “I need you again.” No. He thought back to all the selfish things he had done wearing this mask. They had all been for him, he had used the mask to hide his shame. The Blue Spirit represented everything wrong with Zuko yet now it taunted him. “The world needs you. Aang’s friends need you.”

  
The voice did not answer. But Zuko knew that meant – for the first time in his life – he was doing the right thing. 

─

Mai found the letter on top of her pillow. He must have snuck in during the night before he had fled the dirty elephant rat. Her knuckles cracked violently as she clenched a fist by her side. But the fingers went slack as she read, read words she did not understand, written by a boy she was not sure she had ever understood.

_Dear Mai_

_I never wanted to leave you like this. But I cannot live with my mistake. I cannot stay in this awful place. This war has caused so much pain. I believed the lies they told us until it was far too late. I just hope I can make it right._

_I only hope you can forget me Mai. I do not deserve your forgiveness._

_I’m sorry_

Her tears dripped onto the page, running into black rivulets as they streaked the inked words into an unreadable blur.


	2. All these things that I've done

A boy named Lee stepped onto the dock with his head held low. It had been easy enough to secure passage on the ship, harder to explain where he was going, or why he wanted to be left alone. Still, for the most part the voyage had passed without incident, though Zuko’s temper had flared once or twice and a brawl had ensued. After that the crew learned to leave him to himself. Whoever the brooding teenager with the twin daos was, he wasn’t worth trifling with. Sleep had been no easier to come by in his swinging hammock than in the palace but no one could see him cry in the dark.

The voice had come with him, the voice of the Blue Spirit as Zuko had christened it, though he knew what it really was. His conscience had once sounded like his Uncle, but he couldn’t bear to hear those wise old tones so now he was left with a snide voice in the dark.   


“Where to now Zuko?” the Blue Spirit asked him. “What’s the next step of your master plan?”

Zuko ignored it. He stood at the end of the shabby wooden pier, staring out at the bustling little port he had been deposited in. There were children playing in the street ahead of him, chasing one another, laughing giddily. Zuko stared at them, eyes glazed over.  


“Are you alright son?”

A hand rested lightly on his left shoulder.

“Get away from me!” Zuko shouted, flinching back from the touch. The grey haired man who had spoken to him stepped away quickly, looking apprehensive.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko tried to calm his thundering heart. “You just… just caught me off guard.”

“That’s alright young man. Shouldn’t have snuck up on ya.”

The man studied Zuko. He had kind brown eyes, a face that was not yet old but had left its youth behind several years ago.

“You’ve been standing there for a while. You look like you could use some sleep.”

Zuko did not respond. He felt as he had on the raft after his disastrous attempt to capture the Avatar at the North Pole, so bone weary that if he lay down he could sleep for a week. Except no such rest would come to him now. The Avatar was gone.

“There’s an inn just round the corner,” the man went on. “I could show you if you want.”

Zuko looked at him for a moment then gave a small nod.

“Thanks. I just need to do something first. I’ll meet you back here in five minutes.”

“Sounds great,” the man beamed.

Zuko did not stay in the town. Or the next one. He did not stay in any town. He avoided all civilization, allowing that sixth sense that had guided him to the Avatar so many times to take over. Expect now there was no Avatar to hunt. He was gone. Zuko had no idea how that sense worked but he trusted it and he was certain it would guide him to the Avatar… to Aang’s friends. After that, well who knew what would happen?

He stayed off the roads, travelling north, following the coast. The boat had gotten him as close as he could, he had to go the rest of the way on foot. Days slipped by as he walked alone, heading towards that unknown point that called to him, louder each day.

Hiding in the hollow of a lightning struck tree, Zuko stared out at the downpour that had forced him to seek whatever scant shelter he could find. Rain slanted down like arrows striking into the mud. The sea was in a fractious mood, angry white waves rising and falling, crashing into the cliff base far below. Zuko lifted a hand to his eye, feeling the smoothness there, unbroken and unblemished from eye to ear. He dropped his hand quickly.

How long would he have to stay here? The storm showed no signs of abating any time soon. In fact every time he thought the wind had dropped or the rain had eased they seemed to redouble their efforts, as if in defiance of him. The storm, the cliffs, the howling wind, it all took Zuko back to the North Pole, where the Water Tribe girl had bested him so easily. Where he had captured the Avatar for one brief shining moment, only for it – like everything else in his life – to blow up in his face. They could have so easily left him in the snow to die. Like he deserved. But they had not. Aang had not.

Zuko shuffled, trying to squeeze further into the bark of the tree, whether to escape the bouncing raindrops or his thoughts he could not tell. A small breeze had snuck in with him, playing with Zuko’s hair. He’s gone, he told himself bitterly, the Avatar is gone.

“And whose fault is that?” the Blue Spirit asked from somewhere near the trees blackened roots.

Other faces came and went as the storm raged around Zuko’s tree, Lee, the boy who had been so horrified to learn he was from the Fire Nation, the young couple he had almost robbed only stopping when he saw that the woman was pregnant, Jin who had smiled at him so sweetly not knowing who he really was, Jet, the boy he had met on the way to Ba Sing Se, who had rightly guessed that he and his Uncle had been Fire Nation and had been dragged away screaming by the Dai Li. Another of Zuko’s victims. Where was he now? Was he even alive? Or was he another casualty of this damned war, another name to add to Zuko’s list? Lightning flashed in the distance, striking against the surface of the sea, sending a pulse of blue light through the waves. Zuko shut his eyes tight so as not to see it. There was only one thing it reminded him of.

He was shivering but he produced no flame to warm himself. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He would never use fire again.

At some point he drifted off in the darkness as stormy day slid into raging night. Once again he was back in the Crystal Catacombs, dreams filled with the fizzing of Azula’s lightning and Katara’s distraught cry.

“Aang!”

Zuko shot awake, bashing his head off the scorched wood. The rain had stopped. The whole world was quiet save for the steady dripping of the leftover raindrops. He clambered out of the tree, breathing in the damp air. No more breaks, he told himself. He knew what he had to do. He had to find them. It was the only way he could start to make it right, the only thing he could think of. And as he stared out over the flat calm water that showed no signs of the tempest the night before, he knew exactly where to go.

─

Zuko watched the rope sway over the cloud filled abyss. The rock he had tied it to looked sturdy enough but it wouldn’t take much to send him spiralling down into that chasm. The Western Air temple was somewhere below him, the last traces of a once great civilization, another monument to his family’s destructive past. No, he corrected himself forcefully, it is a monument to them, to the Airbenders. He wondered how long they would stand once his father was finished. Zuko knew the answer. They would be reduced to ash and rubble just like those who had once called them home. He took in a deep breath, just like Uncle had taught him, attempting to steady himself then began to descend.

He heard them before he saw them, murmured voices echoing back off the rock. The conversation was like a candle flame spluttering over a low wick, dropping in and out every few moments. There was no laughter. Their voices were muted and full of misery. But that was nothing compared to the way they looked.

Zuko dropped onto a rocky outcrop high above them, holding in a whistle of amazement. Huge three tiered temples hung from the underside of the cliff like carved stalactites. Even in his current state Zuko could not help but marvel at the sight. He had always thought the Airbenders were a bunch of nomads who knew nothing about architecture or invention, they just sang songs and ate vegetables. Another lie he had been so ready to believe. Even when he had first seen this place he had told himself they meant nothing, that the Fire Nation had attacked because these were a backwards people that needed saving from themselves. Yet here were buildings of such breath taking scale and beauty, things the Fire Nation could never have dreamed of making. Built by people who had only wanted peace.

Zuko slipped silently down to the level they were sitting at. It was a concrete dais jutting out into the space above the chasm. There were two towering stone pillars stretching up to the cliff top. He hid behind one, trying to get his breathing back under control. He recalled with a pang, the moment he had stood here long ago, when all this had begun, when he had thought the Avatar was an ancient master. And yet young Zuko had still foolishly believed he had a chance of winning. He knew now there had never been any chance of victory. Not with Ozai. It had cost so many so much for him to come to that realisation.

He had no idea what he was going to say. What could he say? What could possibly convince them? They would strike him down as soon as they saw him. And he would deserve it.

“Only one way to find out,” the Blue Spirit said.

Their conversation had lulled again, their voices dying away.  
Zuko let out a long breath and stepped out from behind the pillar.

They were sitting around a fire that had long gone out but none of them looked concerned with the day’s chill. They looked as if they had never laughed in their lives. As if someone had beaten them bloody then patched them up only to throw them back out into the cold. They were pale, shaken, waxen impressions of the children he had known, that had taunted Zuko a lifetime ago. They looked more like spirits than people. That was, until they saw him. Then they looked like wolves.

They jumped to their feet. Katara produced a stream of water that arced round her back like a scimitar, just as deadly. Her brother held his boomerang aloft in one hand, a sword in the other. The earthbender girl had twisted her feet into an unbreakable stance, her hands raised high, ready to send a boulder smashing into him and knock him off the cliff.

“Zuko!” the water tribe boy cried. “Toph! How’d you not hear him coming?”

“ _Sorry_ Sokka,” the earthbender shot back. “I… I had other things on my mind.”

Both their faces fell at her words but they quickly hid their distress, fixing Zuko with venomous glares.

“How did he find us?” Sokka asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Katara growled, brandishing her water like a whip. “What matters is stopping him.”

“Please, I want to help.” Zuko held up his hands to show he was unarmed. “About what I did.” He swallowed hard. “The Avatar,” he began then immediately cursed himself. 

“His name was Aang!”  
Katara’s wroth broke like a storm, black clouds emptying enough rain to drown the earth, her voice a hurricane that would tear trees from their roots. But Zuko stood his ground. Not because he was brave but because she needed to say it. And he deserved to have the storm break on his head. Katara stalked towards him, the water turning to a dozen icy spears that surrounded Zuko, razor sharp tips inches from his skin, trapping him.  
“And you killed him.”

“I know,” Zuko said into his chest. He tried to speak louder without sounding like his usual tempestuous self. “And I’m sorry.” He looked her in the eye. “More sorry than you can believe. Please, I want to help.”  


“Help!?” Katara stared at him indignantly, as if the moon had announced that it no longer wanted to pull the tides. “The Fire Nation took everything from me.” She jabbed a finger at him. “You took everything from me. First my mother. And now my best friend.” Her voice choked. “The best person I ever knew. Our only hope.” Her eyes were aflame as she bore down upon him. “And you want to help.”   
She laughed. It was a bitter, ugly thing that was worse to Zuko’s two perfect ears than her rage.   
“You must be crazy to come here Zuko, if you thought we would ever trust you. If you thought we would ever forgive you.”

The icicles moved closer to him, pressing into the skin of his throat and face. The other two said nothing, watching and listening with grim fascination. Zuko hung limply in her grasp, almost wanting her to do it, to put him out of his misery.  
No, a tiny spark of that old fire burned in his chest, fighting that resignation, he had something to do first.

“I know,” he whispered. His head was downcast, the hair freed from its top knot obscuring his eyes.

“What?” Katara yelled, blue eyes that had focused on his unblemished cheek filled with fury and sorrow.

“I know I cannot undo what I did. I know you can never forgive me. I’m not asking you to. I don’t want you to. When this is over you can do whatever you want to me.” He looked up at her. “But please,” he said it so desperately, tears spilling out from brown eyes that he had never allowed to show his pain or his fear. “Let me help.”

Katara stared at him, breath heaving. Then slowly the icicles retracted and Zuko dropped to the floor. She turned her back on him.  


“How could you possibly help us?”


	3. Marooned

Zuko lay just out of reach of the firelight. They had not told him to stay. They had not told him to go. So he remained, in their camp, but not part of it. He heard them whispering long into the night and he knew it was about him. He did not care. Let them whisper. Let them tell each other he’s a monster, that he can’t be trusted, that one of them should keep watch at all times in case he tries to attack them in their sleep. Let them say whatever they want about him, all of it true, but please just let them let him stay. He had to be with them. It was the only way he could help.

Katara would not look at him. Toph spoke no more than a few words at a time and never to him directly. The old Zuko’s temper would have flared at such treatment but now he felt it was more than he deserved. Sokka was the only one who acknowledged his presence. He brought him a bowl of soup whenever one of them could be bothered to cook. Zuko would nod gratefully as he took it, though it always tasted like ash in his mouth. This was not his portion he was eating. It was Aang’s.

The week wore on and they showed no signs of moving on. They were stuck, going through the daily motions of rising and sleeping with little in-between. Days passed without event.

“How long have you been here?” he asked Sokka.  


“Since Aang,” his voice cracked and he looked away. “Since… you know.” 

Zuko stared down at the ground between his feet, clutching his knees. Sokka continued, staring out at the clouds that crowded the valley. 

“Katara wanted to bring him back to his people.” 

“How did you find this place?” 

“We didn’t. Appa did.” 

Zuko looked over at him, an eyebrow raised. 

“The bison?” 

Sokka shrugged. 

“He just knew. Instinct I suppose.” 

Zuko looked down at his shoes. Some instinct, the bison had licked Zuko as soon as it had seen him, despite the fact that Sokka had said he had been despondent and inconsolable since Ba Sing Se. It had no idea what he had done to its master.

“What made you leave?” Sokka asked him on a cold grey morning a few days later.

Zuko had been sitting on the edge of the platform, his legs dangling over the precipice. A strong breeze would have sent him tumbling from his perch but there was no wind. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, resting where the scar had once been. 

“I was always terrified of my father.” The words were muffled by his wrist but Zuko did not move his hand away. “Because of what he did to me. But that did not stop me wanting his… his approval. It took seeing what he did to the world to make me want to break away. The Air nomads,” he gestured to the buildings around them, fading into obscurity, crumbling into half-forgotten memory. “Men, women. Children. A whole civilization wiped out. Because of my nation. Because of my family. Because of me.” 

Zuko broke down, his body wracked by sobs, tears streaming down his cheeks. Sokka hesitated then patted him gently on the back, looking at his arm as if he could not believe what it was doing. Zuko sat there, not quite realising what was happening, letting him soothe him, the feeling of human contact, of comfort, indescribably needed in that moment. No one had touched him like this since his mother… Then he shot away as if the warmth of Sokka’s hand had turned to scorching fire. He did not deserve his comfort. He deserved his hatred, his vitriol, his bile, his violence. Zuko thought he could have dealt with all those things. But he could not handle his pity. He could not handle his compassion.

Sokka stepped away, heading back to the bedrolls. The tears continued to fall, ice cold against Zuko’s flushed cheeks. He wanted to scream, to yell out at the void. But all he could do was sob.

─

“We need to move on.” 

It was Toph who said it, a few days later. Sokka and Katara began to argue but she cut them off. 

“If Zuko can find us who knows how soon someone else will.” 

Katara glowered at the mention of his name. She had not spoken a word to him since their confrontation the day he had arrived. 

“Where can we go?” Sokka asked. “The day of - ” 

Katara shot him a look and he quickly changed track. 

“The plan can’t happen for weeks. What do we do until then?”

Zuko looked between them, wanting to ask. If there was a plan he needed to know it, he could help. But the look on Katara’s face made him think better of asking. 

“I don’t know,” Toph answered when no one else did. “But we can’t stay here.” 

“Maybe we could,” Sokka began but Katara had stormed away before he could finish. Zuko watched her go, wondering, not for the first time, where they had left the Avatar… where they had placed Aang’s body.

“She hasn’t slept since it happened.” 

Katara had disappeared into the depths of the temple and they had not seen her since.  
It was late evening now. The fire had burnt low, the stars had come out in the black sky above the canyon. Zuko sat back from the smouldering logs, staring into them, lost in thought. 

“Neither have I.” 

Sokka looked sideways at him but did not press. 

“She’ll come round,” Sokka said after a while, his hand hovering near Zuko’s shoulder but he stopped himself before he made contact. 

“No,” Zuko mumbled to the fire. “She won’t.”

Sokka shrugged then turned away, thinking the conversation was over. 

“Katara mentioned your mother. She spoke about her,” in the Crystal Catacombs he was going to say but could not bring himself to. “What happened?” 

He heard Sokka’s gulp and did not look at him. Why did he keep talking to him, Zuko wondered. Surely he felt just as his sister did? Surely he wanted Zuko dead for what he had done to his friend? Maybe he did but it was not the same, the Blue Spirit spoke to him, unheard by Sokka. He was Sokka’s friend but she had loved the Avatar. Zuko knew this was true. He had seen it in her face when she had held Aang’s body. When she had looked at him. Like something vital had been stripped from her. As if she had lost a part of her soul.   
Sokka hesitated then told him everything. And when he was finished Zuko told him all he knew as well. 

The fire was barely an ember by the time Katara returned. Sokka and Toph were both asleep, snoring by the remnants of the fire. But Zuko was awake. He heard her wrestling with the straps on the bison’s saddle. 

“Where are you going?”

She whirled round, glaring at him. 

“ _We_. You’re coming too.” 

Zuko stared at her. She had already turned back to her task. There was maybe a foot between them, like when they had stood in the Crystal Catacombs. When she had held the glowing spirit water to his face. He could not think what to say but she spoke before he could put his foot in his mouth again. 

“I heard you talking to Sokka.” 

“Oh.” 

“You’re going to take me to find the Southern Raiders.” 

“I can’t do that.”

When she looked at him her eyes were full of furious tears. 

“You don’t get to make that decision. Not after - ” she stopped herself, redirecting all her torment at Zuko. “You don’t have any say here. If I tell you to jump you jump. If I tell you to do something you say yes Katara. That’s it. Understand?” 

“Yes Katara.” Zuko bowed his head. “But believe me you don’t want to do this.” 

“You don’t know what I want. You don’t know anything about me,” she stopped herself yelling so as not to wake the others but it did not take the power from her words.  
Zuko shook his head. 

“I don’t. But I know what you want to do. Once upon a time I would have agreed with you. But now… Believe me you don’t want that on your conscience.”  
Katara choked back a sob but it did not disrupt the flow of her anger. 

“I don’t care. I can’t get to your sister so he will have to do.”

Katara turned away again, finally latching the buckle on the harness.

“Azula isn’t the one you want.”  
Zuko said it so quietly but Katara heard it all the same. Her back stiffened, her hands balled into fists by her sides.  
“I killed the Avatar. That water, it could have saved him couldn’t it?” 

When Katara looked at him tears were spilling down her cheeks. She did not answer. He did not think she could answer. That thought had haunted her all these sleepless nights, just as it had haunted him. Except her guilt could be laid at his door. 

“Azula might have been a part of it but I killed the Avatar. I’m the one you want.”

Zuko dropped to his knees before her. 

“I wanted to help end this war. But if you have to have your vengeance, then take it from me.” 

She blinked at him, not believing he was serious. 

“I said it before, do whatever you want to me Katara, give me back my scar, throw me in the darkest pit. But don’t kill me.” 

Katara sneered. 

“Not for me. For you. It is not something you can live with.” He looked up at her through his mess of black hair. “Believe me.” 

She stared at his face, at the scar that was no longer there because of her healing hands. 

“I wish I could take back what I did.” Zuko was crying now, every word earnest, honest and wrenched from him. “More than anything. I wish I could trade places with him. But I can’t. I have to live with it until the day I die.” 

Katara stared at him, hand hovering by her water skin, the cork just slightly unplugged.

“If I can make that day stopping my father, all the better. But if you have to do it Katara, I won’t stop you.” 

His eyes fell again. He could feel her standing over him, hand ready to make the final gesture. This must be how the condemned feel on the executioner’s block, with the axe man looming close by, waiting for the pyre to be lit. Zuko closed his eyes, waiting, listening to the wind whistling far away. There were worse ways to die. And at least the world would regain a little balance. An eye for an eye. A soul for a soul.  
He could hear the trickle and flow of the water as she brought it forth, shaping it into a blade that would cut his throat. That would finally bring this to an end. 

“He wouldn’t have wanted me to,” Katara choked. 

The stone was hard against his knees. They felt like they were going numb but he did not notice. The wind had died, the water was silent, the fire had burnt out, there was nothing. Zuko was waiting, believing that this feeling was him finally at peace.  
When he looked up she was gone.   
  



	4. Ripples never come back

They headed off the next morning. Neither Zuko nor Katara mentioned what had happened the night before.  
  


Katara had lingered for a long time by the entrance to the temple, hand leaning against the ancient stone. Zuko did not approach. He knew she was saying goodbye. Sokka looked back at the black space leading to the cavern below where they had left him, where Zuko dared not go, bag slung over his shoulder, his voice a low murmur.

“I’ll miss you buddy.”

Toph sniffed, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

“So long twinkle toes.”

They each turned away and though Zuko could not see them he knew there were tears in their eyes. He had never felt so awful or wretched as he did in that moment.  
He was the last to get on the bison. He looked back wanting to say something, but could not speak.

Appa rose high above the clouds, hiding them from any Fire Nation Airships that might be hunting for them. Except Zuko knew there were none. The Avatar was gone, there was no need to find them anymore. A year before it had been all Zuko had wanted, to find this rag-tag group, to capture the Avatar and restore his honor. Now…  


“Honor,” the Blue Spirit snorted at the word.

His Uncle had honor, for turning his back on their family’s bloody ways. He had tried to show Zuko but he had never wanted to hear it. Zuko had his quest. The only honor he wanted was the honor his father could offer. The honor of a blood thirsty tyrant. What honor was that? And he had followed in his footsteps, willing to burn villages for his own gain. His Uncle’s words came back to him, the ones he had shouted at Zuko beneath Lake Laogai, so full of furious love and frustrated anger.  
“Who are you?” A murderer. “What do you want?” To make this right.

Zuko looked around at the others, the bison undulating gently beneath them. Sokka who wanted to find his father. Toph who wanted to fight some firebenders, she didn’t care who or where. Katara who did not say anything. They had honor. The thought struck him as much like a soft breath of wind as a thunderbolt. He had not seen it from the other side but now up here it was as clear as the sun above them. They had come together to form a family, in the face of insurmountable odds they had dared to dream that they could bring an end to the war. They were just kids but they had fought Zuko at every turn and come away victorious. They had done the impossible, after a hundred years they had found the Avatar. And now that he was gone did they give up? No they kept on fighting, they continued to believe. Even though the Avatar, Aang, their comrade, their leader, their friend, was dead. 

Appa flew on even though no destination had been chosen. The North Pole had been suggested, that was where the water in Katara’s vial had come from but she shook her head and whispered,  


“It’s too late.”

Sokka’s plan won more or less by default. With the Earth Kingdom fallen the Water Tribe warriors were the only fighters still left. Sokka said that they were heading somewhere near Whale Tail island, holding up in one of the bays there. No one could suggest anything else so Appa began the long journey east, hugging the Earth Kingdom’s coast, staying as far away from the Fire Nation as possible.

When Appa came to rest at the end of each day they seldom spoke. Sokka and Zuko sharpened their swords, Toph practiced her bending alone, Katara stared out at the sea.

As always it was Sokka that broke the silence.  


“He loved this,” he said aloud, to no one in particular though it was just him and Zuko sitting by the fire, running their whetstones over their blades. Katara was somewhere in the darkness to the west, sitting on the cliff top. They could hear the thud and crash from the rocks Toph was tossing somewhere behind them. “Camping under the stars.”  


“The - ” Zuko caught himself. “Aang?”  


Sokka nodded.  


“Tell me about him.”  
Sokka looked at him, gauging whether he was being serious or just toying with him. The sky above them was clear and bright with stars. Sokka smiled sadly.  


“He was... great.” He plucked some grass and scattered it into the wind. “He was so full of optimism and,” Sokka’s smile broadened. “He knew how to have fun. When I first met him I thought he was annoying, this little kid you know, going penguin sledding when there was a war on. But,” the smile faded but the sparkle in his eyes did not. “That was what made Aang great. He could always make you smile, even in the darkest moments.”

Sokka trailed away. He picked up a stick and stirred the fire. Zuko felt a shiver run through him, though the night was not especially cold.  
It was funny, even after spending every waking moment thinking about capturing him, after a dozen encounters with him each one ending in defeat, he had never really known the Avatar.  


“He was a good friend,” Sokka said with a sniff after the silence had stretched on. He had turned his face away from Zuko so that it was hidden in shadow.

“He asked me if I thought we could be friends once.”

Sokka looked over at him suddenly. Zuko continued to gaze into the fire.

“After I freed him from Zhao’s prison. After he saved me.”

Sokka didn’t say anything.  


“He had been collecting frogs. I don’t know why. I think he said you needed them. I was too busy trying to get us out to pay attention.”  
Sokka snorted a little laugh.  


“We were sick.”

Zuko nodded, though it didn’t make it much clearer. It was yet another case of the Avatar helping his friends. Friends Zuko had put into harm’s way every time he had come into contact with them. Friends he had threatened with deplorable violence. Friends he now rode with, to amend what he had done. But it could never be amended. Zuko had never had friends. And he never would.

“I don’t think it would have happened. We were nothing alike.”  
Sokka hesitated for a moment.

“You’re more alike than you think.”

“Really?”  
He tried not to sound too dismissive.  


“Yeah Aang was a goofy kid sometimes but you should have seen him when he was angry.”  
Sokka gave a little shudder. “He was one powerful bender.”

He certainly was that. Zuko had never underestimated the Avatar’s power even if he had been baffled and annoyed by the boy who wielded it.

“I think that’s why he and Katara got on so well,” Sokka went on. “They are both so kind. But when they’re angry it’s like, it’s like they’re filled with this righteous fury.” He looked away to where his sister sat in the darkness. “It’s scary to see. And a little bit inspiring.”

Zuko did not say anything. He didn’t think his anger had ever been righteous. Not like when Katara had been angry with him in the Crystal Catacombs, not like when the Avatar’s fury had come when the Moon Spirit had been killed. Anger had always lurked in Zuko, just below the surface, ready to spark at the smallest thing. But it was anger that came from his shame. And his pride.

“And I think you can be kind too Zuko,” Sokka threw out a last few words, still looking away to the west. “You just took too long to show it.”

An uncomfortable silence followed, Zuko lost in his thoughts, Sokka remembering his lost friend.

“I’m gunna check on Katara,” Sokka said after a while, getting to his feet. Zuko waved a hand, in a ‘be my guest sort of gesture’. She needed her brother right now. And he was used to being alone.

─

They rose early the next morning, seeing no reason to linger. They flew over tiny coastal towns, the people invisible from such a height. How many of them would be left standing once the Fire Nation came this way? How easily he could have been the one to lead the armies that burnt them down.  
  


On and on they pushed, each day spent in silence, each night much the same. They would make camp as the sun set, rolling out their bedrolls and striking a fire with a flint and stone. Zuko would stare at it but never get too close. The others made no comment on the fact that he was never the one to light it.  
  


Two nights after their conversation by the fire it was Sokka’s turn to sit away from the group, staring not at the sea but up at the moon.  


“Look after him,” Zuko heard him murmur to the moon, which was full and bright, as he wandered past with an armful of firewood. He did not interrupt.

When he got back to the fire he wished he had stayed out in the shadows. Toph had her arms around Katara and the Water Tribe girl was sobbing into her shoulder. They shared no words, Toph just held her, her arms strong and gentle, her head leant against Katara’s soft brown hair, her white eyes sparkling with tears. Zuko backed away slowly, placing the wood down at the edge of the firelight without a sound but he knew the earthbender must have heard him all the same.

The next night Katara was back on the cliff top. Toph had just come back from her training, sitting close to the fire, but Zuko did not think the smoke was the reason her eyes were so red. The three of them sat in silence, Zuko apart as always, the wind flicked at the flames. Toph spoke, her voice small,  


“I miss him Sokka.”

Sokka moved towards her. She looped an arm around his elbow.

“Me too.”  


The low light of the fire illuminated their faces. Zuko could not bear to look at the sorrow there so he stared down at the dirt between his shoes.

“Is it true,” Toph started, not sounding like she knew what she was saying, sounding for the first time like the twelve year old she was. “That the Avatar comes back as another person?”  


Sokka nodded, eyes staring into the fire.  


“So they say. Aang used to talk to Roku, and one time Kyoshi spoke through him.”

Toph shuffled closer to him.  


“Maybe we’ll see him again then.”

“Maybe.”  


“Sokka?” Toph looked up at him.  


“Yeah?”

“Do you think a friendship could last more than one life time?”

Sokka clung tighter to her arm.

Zuko knew what she was asking, remembering Roku stepping out of the fire sage temple. She was thinking of Aang doing the same thing from some new young Avatar. But somehow Zuko knew that wouldn’t happen. The cycle had been broken.  
Sokka did not answer for a long time. His eyes sparkled in the firelight and when he spoke his voice was thick.  


“I hope so.”

─

During the days as they neared their destination Zuko was left to dwell in his head with nothing but the sound of the wind and the voice of the Blue Spirit.

“What exactly is your plan Zuko?”  
Zuko did not answer, though in his head it was all he could now think of. What was his plan? He had information the Water Tribe could use, that could be useful to Sokka’s plan,

whatever that was. He knew about Fire Nation strategies, the lay out of their defences, and he knew where to find the Fire lord.  


“Good plan,” the Blue Spirit scoffed. “So long as the Water Tribe doesn’t string you up as soon as they see you.” 

Zuko had not ruled out that possibility.

They flew on, Appa making no noise beyond the swish of his tail as he pushed them forwards. Zuko had no idea where they were but he guessed it could not be far now. His stomach knotted at the thought of having to tell several dozen of the Water Tribe’s best warriors that he wanted to help them, that he had swapped sides, oh and also that he was responsible for the Avatar’s death.

  


“Zuko!”

Zuko’s head jerked up. He had been in a half doze, his chin leaning on his chest. He looked at the other three but none of them had spoken. They were staring out into the endless white of the clouds. 

“ _Zuko!_ ” the voice came again, louder this time. It was not the Blue Spirit, it was something else. Something that came from outside him.  


“ _Zuko!_ ”

Zuko jumped to his feet.  


“What are you doing?” Katara asked, frowning at him.  


“Can’t you hear that?”  


“Hear what?”  


“ _Zuko!_ ”

Zuko whirled round.  


“That voice.”

“ _Zuko!_ ”  


“Hey, watch it,” Toph cried as Zuko scrambled to the other side of the saddle, sending them swaying.  


“What voice?”

“ _ZUKO!_ ”  


“There’s a voice, calling my name.”

Katara’s brow furrowed even lower then suddenly shot up in revelation.

“Sokka where are we?”

Sokka flicked Appa’s reins, dropping them below the cloud layer.

Below them was a vast expanse of lush and verdant green.

“The swamp!” he cried.

Sokka and Katara swapped knowing looks.

“What?” Zuko asked, looking between them.  


“I think you better take us down Sokka,” Katara said, ignoring Zuko’s question.

They drifted above the tree tops, Zuko listening keenly. The voice would call to him, drifting on the wind, sometimes louder sometimes softer.  


“Left,” he would instruct Sokka each time he heard it. “Right.”

“What’s going on?” Toph asked, arms folded over her chest.  


“The swamps talking to Zuko,” Sokka called over his shoulder.

“Okaay,” Toph stretched the word. “And we’re all okay with that?”  


“It spoke to Aang when we were last here,” Katara explained. “I think it showed him you Toph.”  


“What!?” Toph started to yell incredulously but just at that moment the voice came again.

“ _Zuko!_ ”

“Down there!” Zuko pointed wildly below them.

Sokka tugged the reins and Appa slowed almost to a stop. They were right above the heart of the swamp. There was a huge tree, bigger than any one forest he had seen. It seemed to radiate a mysterious power, captivating Zuko.

Zuko stared down at the enormous tree, waiting for the voice to call again. But it was silent. He could hear birds calling, frogs croaking in the reeds, strange, unknown creatures howling from the treetops but nothing for him. What had it been? The voice had been familiar and yet he could not place it.  


“We need to go down there,” he said to the others. He did not know why. He just knew he had to. Katara looked at him for a long moment then nodded.

The ripples ebbed away from Appa’s six gigantic legs as he settled in a patch of murky water not far from the tree’s massive trunk. Zuko hopped out of the saddle before the last one had even reached the edge of the pool. Katara followed soon after. Sokka helped Toph down then jumped into the water with a splash and a disgusted sound.  


“Eughh, it doesn’t smell any better than last time.”

Toph sniffed.

“I kind of like it.”

“Maybe you can live here one day,” Sokka taunted.

“Quiet,” Zuko said, holding a hand up to stop their bickering, not looking back. He was staring at the tree, waiting for the voice to call again. There was nothing.

“What is this place?” he asked Katara.

“I’m still not sure.” 

“What did you mean ‘Aang saw me’?” Toph asked.

“Last time we were here, the swamp, it showed us things, visions of people we had lost.”

“But I wasn’t lost, you guys hadn’t even met me yet.”

Katara shrugged, unable to explain. 

“Maybe the spirits want you Zuko,” Sokka said nudging him with an elbow.

“Maybe,” Zuko murmured, without a trace of humor, still looking up at the tree, the heart of the swamp. He was certain this is where the voice had come from.

Zuko waded through the water, splashing mud and moss all over his legs but not caring, heading towards the tree that held his gaze hypnotically. He was dimly aware of the other three talking behind him but he was not really listening. The tree was calling him, calling him to it. He was almost touching it when a movement off to his right caught his eye. There was someone there. She had her back to them, long black hair cascading down elegant red robes that twirled as she turned to face them.

“Mother!” Zuko cried, the words pulled involuntarily from his lips. She was here. She was really here.

“Zuko?” Sokka called to him.

Zuko looked back at him, unable to hold back his elated grin but it shattered when he looked back and she was gone.

“Where… where did she go?”

“Like I said,” Katara’s voice was strange and strained. “The swamp shows you things.”

“What was it Huu said Katara?” Sokka asked her, splashing up to come alongside them, hand coming up to his chin as he thought. “Time is only an illusion.” 

Katara looked away, her voice a whisper,

“And so is death.”

Zuko’s eyes widened.  
He knew what he had to do.

Zuko rushed forward, reaching the tree and pressing his hand against the bark. It was rough and coarse and surged with power and life.

“Zuko what are you doing?” Katara asked him.

Zuko closed his eyes, willing it to work.

“I think I can get the Avatar.”

“The Avatar’s a baby,” Katara explained as if Zuko had hit his head. “If they’ve even been born yet.”

Zuko shook his head. They didn’t understand. Why was he so bad at explaining things?

“No, _the_ Avatar. Aang. I can bring him back.”

“What!” the three of them cried in unison.

“This tree, it’s what called to me. I think it wants me to find him.” 

“Zuko,” Sokka said softly. “Aang’s gone.”

“Maybe. But what if he’s not gone completely. What if some part of him is still left in the spirit world? You said it yourself, the spirits want me here.”

“I was joking.”

Zuko shook his head, still willing the tree to speak to him again.

“My uncle told me about the spirit world. I never really listened but I think…”

There was a sound from deep within the tree, a thud that turned into a rushing roar, as if water was surging towards the point where they stood, traveling along the network of roots and vines from all across the swamp.

“Uh, what’s that?” Toph asked.

Sokka looked down at her.

“What’s what?”

“Can’t you hear it?”

“Not you too! I swear this swamp makes people crazy.”

Zuko laughed, a little wildly.

“Maybe.”

He pressed even harder against the dark trunk.

“Come on,” he urged it, willing it to work.

“That’s enough Zuko.”

Katara’s voice forced his eyes open. It was harsh and choked all at once.

“You’ve had your fun but we’re leaving.”

“No.” He would not believe it. “No, I can bring him back.”

“He’s gone Zuko!” she cried. “He’s gone.” Her voice dropped and she turned away. “You just have to accept that.”

“No!”

He would not give up. He couldn’t.

“Please,” he moaned to the tree. “Help me. I have to find the Avatar.”

The tree throbbed again but nothing happened.  
Zuko could feel the anger rising in his chest, the fire building in his fingertips. He took in a deep breath.

“Mother,” he whispered. “Please.”

She was there beside him. He could not see her, but he could feel her. He closed his eyes again, focusing everything on the tree.

He heard Sokka’s gasp.

“Katara, look!”

Zuko could not see what was happening but he could feel the power pulsing from the tree. But it was not enough.

“Help me!” he called to them, voice thick with desperation. Loud splashes followed and then Sokka was next to him, hand beside his. Toph followed soon after, her hand not managing to reach quite as high. Then Katara joined them. They stood together, arms out stretched, the energy coursing through them, surging down their arms, searching for their hearts.

A shockwave sent them spiralling backwards, splashing into the foul smelling mud.  
Had it worked?  
Zuko opened his eyes. A huge golden column of light had erupted from the spot where they had been standing, stretching high into the sky. It reminded him so strikingly of the light he had seen when the Avatar had awoken from the ice.  
The Avatar.

Zuko scrambled to his feet. He glanced at it just once. There was no hesitation in his heart. He rushed towards it, praying it would not disappear.

“Zuko wait!” Sokka shouted at him.

“You can’t stop me,” Zuko said, not looking back. “And I’m going alone.”

“I… I know.”

“Good luck,” Toph called to him.

“Zuko,” Katara’s voice was almost a whisper. Zuko turned to look at her, meeting her unwavering gaze. “Bring him back.”

Zuko nodded curtly not saying the thought that had come into his head. He would send the Avatar back. But it would be a one way trip for Zuko. He knew this in his heart. And he was willing to make that sacrifice. An eye for an eye. A soul for a soul.  


“I’m sorry Uncle,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

Zuko stepped forwards into the light.


	5. In the cold I'm standing

Zuko opened his eyes.

He was standing in a swamp not unlike the one he had just left. Except the trees here were mud colored and the sky was dark and foreboding. He could hardly see further than a few yards in front of him due to the thick mist that hung in the air.  


“Hello?” Zuko called out. His voice echoed back to him, as if there were a dozen other Zuko’s out there, lost beyond the fog.  


“Well that was a good idea,” the Blue Spirit mocked. “Bring every spirit down on your head why don’t you?” 

Zuko ignored it, but he did not call out again. Who knew what was watching him?

He walked on into the swamp, his feet hardly making a sound though he was ankle deep in grey water. So this is the spirit world, he thought. Not as impressive as Uncle had made it sound. He had expected dazzling colors, specters terrifying and awesome to behold. Not more swamp. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. When he looked over his shoulder he saw there was no sign of the portal that had led him there. No going back. Zuko did not care. He had had no intentions of returning. His only goal was to find the Avatar.

Zuko laughed. The sound fluttered from him, disappearing into the mist but not echoing back this time. Finding the Avatar. It was his goal in death just as it was in life. There was some twisted irony in that. The mist parted suddenly, revealing a path through the twisting roots and jutting rocks. Zuko took a last look back then followed the path, hoping it would lead him where he needed to go.

There was nothing but whiteness to all sides. The mist had closed in again as soon as he had taken a step. Zuko could only see where to put his next step and nothing beyond. So he went cautiously, carefully, one hand on the hilt of his sword. He was thankful he had brought them, there was no bending in the spirit world he knew. Not that he could.

It felt like he had been walking for hours. Time didn’t seem quite right in this place. Zuko had no idea how long he had actually been there. Just as he was beginning to get frustrated, considering chopping at the mist with his sword in fury, it began to lift. With a disgusted sigh he realised he was still lost, except he was in a forest now, dense and dark and thick with snarling vines.  
Zuko came to a stop. How was he supposed to find the Avatar if he couldn’t even find his way? Yelling out in fury he pulled out his sword and slashed at a vine, cutting it in two. The plant dropped limply to the ground then began to crawl into the underbrush. Zuko stared at it in mounting horror.  


“What have you gotten yourself into Zuko?” the Blue Spirit chuckled.

The forest was endless. On and on Zuko wandered, wondering if he would be destined to wander here forever, trapped in the spirit realm. It would be a fitting end he thought. He did not seem to tire, he had no thirst or hunger. He just kept walking, trapped in an endless night.

Finally he came to a stop in a small clearing soaked with moonlight. He had no idea where he was or how long he had walked. Were the others still waiting for him in the swamp? Well, waiting for the Avatar. How long would they wait?  
As long as they had to, he realised.  
His head dropped.  
He had failed.  
Again.  
It was all Zuko ever seemed to do.

The snapping of twigs made him whirl round. There was something in the trees, watching him. Zuko pulled out his other sword, planting his feet into the correct stance, keeping his weight low, ready to spring forwards. That was when he saw it. The Blue Spirit. The real Blue Spirit.

It looked exactly as he had imagined, exactly as the mask depicted. The mask he had used to hide his face so the deeds he should have been most ashamed of could not be associated with him. It did not approach. It just watched him. Silent. Foreboding. Moonlight slanted through the canopy of the trees but the spirit was not touched by it.  
“What do you want from me?” he shouted at it. The spirit moved behind a tree trunk then appeared again several feet away, behind another tree it could not possibly have reached in such a short stretch of time. Zuko reminded himself where he was. Anything was possible here.  
The spirit continued to watch him, not getting closer, not leaving.  
“What do you want?” he shouted again. The spirit stared back, its face as much as mask as his imitation had been. The trees rustled in the wind causing him to look over to his right. The Blue Spirit was there now, it was still watching him. Zuko blinked and it was gone. It had not said a word.

Zuko did not move on. He stared up at the moon, it’s light bathing his face, sparkling the tears that had formed in his eyes. He could not look away from the moon, remembering the time he had seen it turn to a blood red. Zhao had done that but once again Zuko was just as much to blame. He had stolen the Avatar, he had left the spirit oasis defenceless.  
They had brought terror to the Northern Water tribe, Zhao in the name of the Fire Nation, Zuko in the name of honor.  
  


“I’m sorry, okay.” Zuko let out a moan. “I’m sorry!” 

He fell to his knees. 

“I did,” he heaved in a sob. “Terrible things.” He bent his head forwards so the back of his neck was exposed. “I was a bully.” How he had shouted at his men on his ship, his Uncle flashed into his mind. “And an invader.” The crumbling walls of the Water Tribe, the children and old people cowering in fear. “And a destroyer.” The burning village on Kyoshi Island, the screams of the villagers swirling with the smoke that drifted from their homes. “And a killer.” The Avatar falling lifeless in the caverns below a city that he had seized for his nation, for his Fire Lord. He had met people of all kinds on his travels, people who had only wanted peace and he had brought them nothing but war. “And I’m sorry.”

  
A gentle hand rested on his shoulder. Zuko jumped up, whirling around. There was a girl standing next to him. Her skin was dark, her hair was as white as snow and her whole form seemed to glow ethereally. 

“You’re,” he croaked, heart still pounding from the surprise of being snuck up on so easily. That would have never happened in the ‘real world’. “You’re the Water Tribe princess.”  


“My name is Yue,” she smiled at him. “And you’re Zuko.” 

Zuko nodded, staring up at her. Then he quickly averted his eyes, feeling sick with shame. 

“You… you died because of me.” 

“No Zuko. I gave my life for the world. For my people. For the Moon Spirit.” 

“You were so brave. Braver than I have ever been.” 

Looking down at her feet they seemed not to touch the floor, like she was floating.

“You are so full of hurt Zuko. It pains me to see, just as it pains those who love you.” 

Zuko could not look at her. Her voice was so calm, so soothing. How could she speak so kindly to him? His people had taken everything from her. 

“No one loves me. And I don’t deserve it. Not after all I’ve done. Not after what I did to your people.” 

The memories flooded back like the water that had surged from the ocean spirit, Zhao and his men burning everything that stood in their path.

“Zhao was an awful man,” Yue said, as if she had seen his thoughts. “He wanted nothing but power and false glory. What is it you want Zuko?” 

“My honor,” he said instinctively. Even as he said it, it sounded hollow.  


“And what does honor mean to you?”  


“I,” he began. “I don’t know.”

He knew nothing of honor. The Princess had honor, she had done the most honorable thing he could think of, she had lain down her life for her people. He had never done an honorable thing in his life.

  
Yue lifted his chin, still smiling.

“Do you remember how you got that scar Zuko?” 

Zuko flinched. 

“Because I dishonored my father.”

“No, because you did the right thing. A room full of grown men and only you, a 13 year old boy spoke out.” 

Zuko had no response to this. 

“It has taken you a long time, and people have suffered for it, but you are finally back where you started, before your father burnt you for doing that one good thing. Don’t you see, you are not like Zhao, Zuko. And you are not like your father.” 

Zuko looked up at her again. She was so perfect, her voice, her brightness, her goodness. 

“How do you know?” he asked, wanting to believe her but not seeing how it could possibly be true.   
She laughed, a laugh that could light the darkest nights, that could calm a raging sea.

“You see things a lot clearer up in the sky.” 

She reached out a hand to lift him up.  


“Let me show you.” 

Zuko took it. 

“Can you… can you take me to the Avatar?” 

Yue nodded, still holding his hand, and led him onward, the forest melting around them.

─

Zuko was standing atop a low hill. All around him the ground was scorched and blackened. He blinked. How had he got here? And where was here?  
He looked around but Yue was gone. The moon was back in the sky. He was alone again.  


“Hello Zuko.” 

Zuko turned slowly. 

The Avatar was standing behind him. But it was not Aang. It was Roku.


	6. We could steal time, just for one day

“Roku?”

Zuko stared at the old man dressed in his long red Fire Nation gown, silver beard almost touching his waist. He began to laugh, a mirthless bitter laugh. He had finally found the Avatar. It was just the wrong one.

“You do not seem pleased to see me Zuko.”

“No offense but you weren’t exactly who I was looking for.”

“And yet here I am.”

Zuko looked away from the old Avatar, staring out at the barren, lifeless world around them. It seemed strangely familiar. The smell of smoke and sulphur was strong on the air.

“It feels like home,” the Blue Spirit observed, still with him. 

Zuko sat on the ground crossing his legs underneath him. The idea of this place being like the Fire Nation brought him no warmth. The familiarity he felt was bitter and rotten. If it had not been for wanting to help Toph, Sokka and Katara stop his father he would have never wanted to see the Fire Nation again.  
Except, if this had gone successfully, he never would have. But he was stuck here. And so was the Avatar.

The sky was grey and oppressive. A volcano belched smoke in the distance. The air reeked of burning soot.

“Are you going to help me?” he asked Roku who had stood silently beside him, watching Zuko carefully.

“You have to help yourself Zuko.”

Zuko snorted.

“Oh so you’re going to help me like Uncle always did.”

His smirk faded as he realised what he had said. His Uncle had only ever tried to do what was best for him, his advice had always been for his own good.

“I’m sorry,” he started, looking awkwardly up at the old Avatar. “I could do with all the help I can get here.”

“Why are you here Zuko?”

“To find the Avatar.”

Roku spread his arms wide, long sleeves hanging down beneath his thin wrists.

“And you’ve found him.”

Zuko gave him a withering glare.

“You know what I meant.”

Roku sat down next to him, looking out at the scene with an impassive face. His long beard twitched in the faint breeze. Zuko was staring down at his shoes.

“I’m sorry my great grandfather killed you.”

Roku laughed. The sound was so surprising Zuko’s neck snapped up and he stared at the old Avatar.

“You do not have to apologise for that.”

“Yes I do! He was my family.” He cast his eyes back to the floor. “And I ended up being just like him.”

“Did you?”

Roku raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything more.

Zuko let out a snorting breath.

“Our nation has done terrible things Zuko but it was not always like that.”

“That makes it worse!” Zuko cried. “My family took the Fire Nation and twisted it. Made it into something it was not. And then it tried to force those ideas upon the world.” 

“People will always abuse power Zuko. It is up to people with strength to challenge that.”

Zuko looked up at him.

“You did that. You stood up to Sozin.”

Roku’s face fell and his voice was sombre.

“Too late. And not well enough.” He looked away sadly. “I have had a hundred years to go over my decisions but nothing I can do can change them. You on the other hand can change everything.”

“Not what I did.”

“No, no one can change that. But you can always change what you do next.”

Zuko stared into the old man’s eyes, wondering. 

“Zuko, my misplaced kindness started this all,” he swept his hand in a gesture at the burnt land around them. “Now yours can end it.” 

They were quiet for a long time, Roku leaving Zuko time to think before finally asking him, “What do you want Zuko?”

“I told you,” Zuko said through gritted teeth. “To find the Avatar.”

“What do you really want?”

“My honor.”

“What do you _really_ want?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Zuko stared out at the blackened, ash covered land, but even as he looked patches of green seemed to be sprouting up, new growth pushing through the burnt earth.

“For the longest time I thought I knew what I wanted. I wanted my honor, I wanted my father to respect me, to love me.”

He gulped, hoping Roku had not heard before realising that he did not care if he had. Let him hear, let them all hear.  
Zuko had wanted to be like his father, Zuko had loved his father. Zuko had thought his father had loved him. Zuko is scared of his father. Well who wouldn’t be? 

“I have seen so many terrible things that have shown me the truth of the Fire Nation,” Zuko said hoarsely. “I have done so many terrible things that have shown me the truth about myself. Now I just want to do one thing, one right thing and bring a little balance back to the world.” He looked up at Roku, directly into his eyes. “Can you understand that?”

Roku nodded.

Zuko looked away, letting out a long sigh.

“It’s funny, I realise now that it was never about me. I just made it that way. But it was always about him. About the Avatar.”

Roku was silent. The world was quiet. The mountain had hushed its rumbling, the wind had died to a sigh. Zuko closed his eyes, willing him to appear just as he had willed the tree, just as he had willed that night in the South Pole, alone in his cot, the night before he had found the Avatar. Only this time he had no intentions of delivering him to his father. He would deliver him to his friends instead. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

“Is he here?”  
  


Roku did not answer.  
Zuko looked up. The world had changed into a glorious green meadow that glittered in the sunlight. He got unsteadily to his feet. How was this possible? A moment before he had been in a world of fire and ash and now he was surrounded by beauty and serenity. There was a small house sitting in the bottom of a dip below him. Next to it was a long wooden table groaning with the weight of a mighty feast. And at its head, waving frantically at him, was the Avatar. His Avatar.

“Hey Zuko!”

Zuko grinned back. He could not help it. The look on the younger boy’s face was so warm, so full of welcome. He was genuinely pleased to see him. No one had ever looked at Zuko like that in his life. As if he had been waiting for him all this time. But of course he had been.

“Come and join me, there’s plenty of food! And tea!” he lifted a tea pot to show him. It was white with a light pink lid, an insignia on the side of the same colour and a woven handle.  
Zuko walked over, fighting to stop himself breaking into a run. He had found him. He had really found him! 

He sat down in the chair just to the Avatar’s right. Aang beamed at him. It was a wonderful sight that smile, Zuko did not think he would ever tire of it. It made him feel as if despite all his head told him, that his heart was right, that he was good. Even if it was just for this moment. 

“Hey.”

It seemed rather underwhelming given all he was feeling. 

“But you’ve never been good with words,” the Blue Spirit muttered, but his voice was far away and fading. Aang waved a hand by his ear as if he was swatting away a fly. The voice was silenced.

“It’s so good to see you Zuko.”

“Really?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Uh, because I killed you.”

“Nah,” Aang waved it away as if Zuko had merely bumped into him in the street somewhere rather than sent him forever to this strange and terrifying place. Zuko stared at him.

This was the boy Sokka had spoken about, the one he and Katara had cried over, the one Toph had spent every evening training session smashing rocks so she would not cry over him as well. Or so they would not see her tears. He could see why they followed him. Forgiveness was the hardest thing in the world and yet he had gifted his to Zuko without a moment’s hesitation, despite everything he had done to him. 

“What have you been doing since…”

Zuko still could not say it. Aang didn’t seem to notice, he just continued to smile.

“Talking to the past Avatar’s mostly. Kyoshi gave me some good advice on talking to girls.”

Zuko laughed nervously, not sure what to say.

“Right.”

Aang leant in close, speaking in a stage whisper. 

"The secret is in the horse stance." 

Aang leant back with a laugh. All Zuko could do was raise one baffled eyebrow. 

“And I talked to Ravaa.”

“Who?”

“She’s the spirit of the Avatar.”

“Oh,” that was all Zuko could think to reply. “Shouldn’t she be you know, in the next Avatar?”

Aang shook his head and laughed.

“The next avatar hasn’t been born yet, she won’t be,” he began to count on his fingers then gave up with a wave, “for ages.”

“Really?”

Aang shrugged.

“So Rava says.” He smiled wistfully. “She’s gunna be great though.”

“How do you know?”

Aang looked at him sagely, looking far older and wiser than the boy that had been there a moment before.

“Time is an illusion.”

Zuko looked down at the food on his plate that he could not bring himself to touch. There was something not quite right about it. Aang continued, slipping back into his boisterous boy’s voice.

“And Roku showed me some things I needed to know. About his life with your Grandfather.”

Zuko sighed.

“I read about them.”

“They were friends you know,” Aang said eagerly.

“Yes. And my grandfather betrayed him. He betrayed the Avatar. That’s all the Fire Nation ever does,” he finished bitterly, lowering the cup of tea Aang had poured for him before he could crush the ceramic.

“Your other grandfather was Fire Nation too.”

Zuko stared at him, sudden comprehension washing over him. That was why Roku had come to him.

“They were friends,” he murmured, repeating Aang’s words under his breath. He looked up at the little bald monk. He was still smiling at him, looking exactly as he had when he had been alive, full of joy and life. But it was not real. Zuko knew that. The spirit world may have shown him many truths but it still held illusions. Zuko remembered how Aang had looked outside of Zhao’s prison, face full of sadness, offering words to Zuko that he had cast angrily back into his face along with some flames for good measure. Zuko did not deserve his friendship. And yet… “They were friends.”  
What are you thinking Zuko? What are you trying to say? Toph’s words by the campfire suddenly came back to him.

“Aang… Do you think friendships can transcend lifetimes?”

Aang stared directly into his eyes, the smile he wore now was serene and knowing.

“I do Zuko. I really do.”

“And do you think,” Zuko felt foolish at the thought, cheeks going red but he forced himself to say it anyway. He’d had enough of regrets. “You asked me once if I thought we could have been friends.”

“I remember.”

“Do you think we could have been friends?”

Aang nodded, face sincere. Then he broke into that beautiful smile again, the smile that made Zuko think everything would be alright. Aang would go back. He knew it. He would go back and he would defeat his father. Zuko believed he could save the world. He might have been a little kid but he was also the Avatar. His Avatar. The Avatar who was smiling at Zuko as if all his past was forgotten.

“We’re friends now Zuko.”

Zuko smiled back.

“Then take my hand Avatar.”  
  


Zuko got to his feet, offering him his hand. Aang stood up as well, grasping it. Zuko’s fingers were limp. He took one last look at the boy he had hunted. Finally his search was at an end. Zuko had captured the Avatar. And now he would set him free.

“Goodbye Aang.”

He clasped his fingers tightly round Aang’s hand, willing the spirits one final time. I have never been lucky, Zuko thought, but please, grant me this one last favour.

“Zuko wait!” Aang cried out but it was too late.

He was gone.

Zuko was alone.

But Zuko did not mind.

He was used to being alone.

He lay back on the grass and stared up at the sky. It was a perfect blue, not a cloud to be seen. He did not want to die. He realised that now. Now that it was too late. He was so young. There were so many things he still wanted to do, so many things he had to atone for. But it did not matter now. For once he had done the right thing. The honorable thing. 

“I’m coming Mom.”

Zuko closed his eyes and drifted away.


	7. Epilogue: Midnight Souls still remain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I could end it like that did you?

Zuko opened his eyes.

“What?” he said groggily. “What happened? Where am I?” 

The world swam into focus. He was sitting on a concrete floor. It was cold and hard beneath his knees but very much real. There was someone sitting next to him. They were dressed in an orange robe, their head was shaved and they were smiling at Zuko. It was the Avatar. It was Aang. 

“Aang?” Zuko croaked. He looked around. They weren’t in the spirit world anymore. Or in the swamp. “How?” 

Aang beamed at him. 

“I asked Rava for a favor. She said she’d have to see me in fifty years for it but that’s forever from now.” 

He laughed. The sounds bounced off the high walls of the Air Temple. Zuko laughed too. He couldn’t help it. And he didn’t want to stop it. It came out of him like a breath of air, light but unstoppable, forceful but gentle. When he finally stopped laughing he stared at the Avatar. In the real world he was just a kid again. And yet he was so much more. He pulled Aang into a hug. Aang hugged him back. 

“Thanks for coming to get me Zuko,” Aang’s voice was small, clamped against his shoulder. Zuko heard the fear there, fear of the unknown, of what he had dragged him back from. What he had brought him back to. There was still so much they had to do, but he knew that together it was possible. He hugged him tighter. 

“Any time Avatar.”

There was a sudden roar. They both looked up to see the bison landing about twenty feet from them. 

“Aang?”

“Aang!” 

“Twinkle toes!” 

The three of them jumped down at the same time, almost knocking each other over, scrambling to get to them. But it was Katara who reached them first. Zuko stepped back, still smiling. 

“Katara!” Aang cried, flying into her arms.

“I missed you so much,” they said in unison. 

Sokka nodded at Zuko, leaving so much unsaid but it meant everything to him anyway. Toph punched him on the arm.

“Glad you made it back in one piece sparky.” 

Zuko grinned bashfully. 

Katara and Aang were still hugging, as if they would never let go of each other again, both with their eyes closed. Aang’s back was to them, Katara had whirled him round and they could see her face leaning on his shoulder. She opened her eyes and looked directly at Zuko. 

“Thank you,” she mouthed.

Aang and Katara finally pulled apart though they did not stray far from each other’s side, keeping close, hands almost touching. 

“So what now?” Toph asked. They were all beaming at one another, unable to believe what had happened, all staring at Aang as if convincing themselves he was really there. 

“Well now that Zuko’s part of team Avatar he can teach Aang fire bending,” Sokka said. His voice was lighter than it had been in all the time Zuko had known him, full of giddy joy. The others looked at Zuko who shook his head slowly, wanting to laugh at the irony of it all. 

“I can’t. I’ve lost my bending.” 

Their faces fell. All except Aang, who was looking at his friends with such love that Zuko felt he should shield his eyes it was so bright. 

“Don’t worry Zuko,” Aang said, jumping up and twirling his staff. “I know how to get it back.” 

“How?” 

Aang gave him that look again. 

“Time is an illusion.” 

Zuko looked at him quizzically but Aang just smiled and offered a hand to his friend. 

Zuko looked up at him, Aang, the Avatar, the boy he had saved. The boy who had saved him.  


“Come on Zuko, let’s go on a field trip.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Let me know what you thought. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr [@thelastairmattress](https://thelastairmattress.tumblr.com/)


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